“You are right,” agreed M. le Comte, and slowly returned his pistols to his belt. “Let us wait, then. Meanwhile Pasdeloup, do you tell us how you came to know so well what Goujon was planning—and more especially why, since you did know it, you did not give me warning.”
Pasdeloup hesitated a moment.
“I will tell you, monsieur,” he said at last, “and you will see that I am not to blame—that I did what I could. You perhaps know the inn of the Belle Image at Dange?”
“I have heard of it.”
“I was there one evening a week ago drinking a glass of wine during an hour Laroche had taken my place at the gate. It was the first time he had ever proposed such a thing, but that night he came to me and told me of the wonderful new wine at the Belle Image, so good and so cheap, since it no longer had to pay tithes, to the church and to the aristocrats. He ended by saying that as he was idle for an hour he would take my place at the gate while I went to the Belle Image and tasted the wine. I confess I was surprised; he saw it and explained that he wanted me to test for myself one of the benefits the Republic had conferred upon the people. So I went. I saw afterward that that was not his purpose at all.”
“I can guess what his purpose was,” said M. le Comte; “but continue your story.”
“I was, as I have said, drinking my wine,” continued Pasdeloup, “which was truly of a surprising excellence, when a man came and sat down beside me. For a moment I did not know him; then I saw it was Goujon. He greeted me with a kindness which surprised me when I remembered that it was I who had helped to capture him; but he seemed to have forgotten that. I saw that he was well dressed and that his hands were white. He ordered a bottle of wine even superior to that which I was drinking, invited me to join him, and began to tell me of the wonderful events which were happening in Paris—events which would end by making us all free, and rich, and happy. He said that the aristocrats and the priests had been starving and robbing and killing us for five hundred years, and that now it was our turn.
“‘You remember that your own mother was starved to death, Pasdeloup,’ he said.
“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I remember that.’
“‘Although enough to feed a hundred people was wasted every day at the château.’